


Clouds

by Anuna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Conversation, F/M, Hypothermia, Introspection, Skye's POV, Trust Issues, Ward feels, cuddling for heat, name meanings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>With both his arms and legs around her she wasn't freezing to death yet. It was almost too intimate to be held like that, almost uncomfortable after weeks of his silent treatment. She didn't mind the touch, or the contact; and apart from cold and terrified she couldn't pinpoint what exactly was bothering her so much. She just wanted to push him away and do something.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>While on a mission, Skye and Ward end up locked in a freezing cold room and are forced to stay close in order to stay warm. (Set some time after 1x06).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> I've been toying with this idea since "The girl in a flower dress", after that ridiculous amount of feels that episode brought. First I tried writing a story in which they were both injured, had to take care of themselves and discuss the issues after Skye's questionable loyalty came out. However something didn't click until this new ep, and being injured together was replaced by trying not to freeze together. Another thing are names and name meanings - few weeks ago I looked into it and you can't tell me that "Skye" and "Grant Ward" were just randomly picked names for these two. (You can find the name meanings in a note under the story. )
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy! I had lots of fun writing this :) Apologies for possible typos/mistakes.

“I could -” she began, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. 

“No,” he said. Skye sighed. 

“But I just want to -”

“ _No_ ,” he said again, quiet but decisive. She tried to move, but it was useless. Ward was either too strong, or nearly frozen like her. “You're cold as it is,” he added. 

“Are you aware I can't help us like this?” she continued with a frustrated glance towards the door and the control panel next to it. She felt like temperature had dropped again, but there was nothing else to expect from a refrigerator. 

They were gonna freeze if they don't do something. 

“Ward,” she complained into his chest, where he stubbornly kept her; her hands inside of his jacket, and her face in the crook of his neck. With both his arms and legs around her she wasn't freezing to death yet. It was almost too intimate to be held like that, almost uncomfortable after weeks of his silent treatment. She didn't mind the touch, or the contact; and apart from being cold and terrified she couldn't pinpoint what exactly was bothering her so much. She just wanted to push him away and do something. See him _allow_ her to do something. 

“I'm not letting you do it,” he was wrapped around her like a human comforter, and even though he was bigger and in top form, he had to be cold as well. “If you get up and walk over there there -”

She shook her head. “It won't take long. I'm sure. I nearly managed to decode -”

“Your fingers wouldn't move any more, Skye,” he countered too calmly for his easily annoyed nature. “I'm not letting you.”

“Well, you're freezing,” she said. “Don't tell me you're not.”

“You're in much greater danger than I am,” he replied, logical, reasonable and infuriating. “My body is bigger.”

“You're not a superman, Ward,” she nudged him but he didn't budge. “At least let me warm your hands.”

“My hands are fine,” his reply was predictable. She didn't believe him. 

“Mine are inside your jacket and they're not completely warm,” she tried the tone that usually managed to tick him off, and when he didn't momentarily react, she got even more worried. “ _Ward_ -”

“I'm fine,” he repeated. 

“No, you're _not_ fine, just like I'm not fine, and also, you're a big stubborn mule,” she huffed. “Ward?”

“What?”

“Please,” she whispered. “Please let me help you.”

“Skye -”

“I won't die any sooner if you give me one of your hands.”

“To do what?”

“You'll see,” she said. 

For a moment he remained still. 

Skye closed her eyes, surrounded with the sound of his breathing, feeling unsettled and anxious and cold. It seemed that every bit of warmth that came from him was instantly drained away from her. He felt too much like that guy who pulled a bag off her head, implying she was reckless and irresponsible. 

The thing was, he was right. Not always, not about everything, but he was right. She had been irresponsible. The notion sat in her stomach, too big and heavy. 

He finally moved – took a deep breath and removed his right arm from around her. He did it slowly, while he carefully held her in place and she thought that it was sweet. She also wanted to slap him upside the head or yell at him, but she suspected nothing would change. She knew she wouldn't be cheating laughter out of him any time soon. Thinking of that hurt. 

She unzipped her jacket and tugged at his fingers. 

“Oh, God, Ward. You're freezing,” she said. His palm was ice cold inside her hands. “You can't do this.”

“I'm trying to -”

“To protect me, us, I know,” she huffed, purposefully breathing close to his neck, and rubbing his fingers back to life. They were familiar – long and powerful, and usually dry and warm. Not cold like this. She tried to turn her face away, and have her senses somehow less full of his presence, but it was useless. It felt like having something and losing it, a near chance, almost withing her reach. Wasn't her entire life just one huge coda of _you screwed up and we don't want you any more_? This felt a lot like that, except he was still holding her. 

“I wish you'd stop, you know.”

“Stop what?” he asked. She took a breath full of him and the cold and closed her eyes. They might not be getting out of here and she could just tell him. 

“Stop... hating me,” she said, and her voice came out unsteady, unexpectedly vulnerable. “Please.” Just when did he get under her skin? He was the representation of everything she swore she hated for so long. Except he was smart and idealistic in his own way, and much kinder then he appeared at first. Miles crossed her mind then – it was hard not to think of him even in this context, and she bitterly concluded again that she was fooled by their shared language and interests and wavelength that only seemed same as hers. Ward had his strict suits and his solid integrity, _bucketloads_ of integrity. He put others before himself. She knew what was underneath the faceless mask and hated that she had to face it again. _Agent Ward_ instead of her SO, instead of _Grant_. 

“I don't hate you,” he said quietly. 

“Yes, I'm afraid you do. And, honestly I get it, I screwed up, but -” she sighed and stopped, because there literally were no more words she could use to explain how sorry she was. He wanted to be convinced by actions, but she ran out of them too. 

“I don't hate you,” he repeated. “I never did.”

She sighed. He leaned his face against her hair and she could feel him sigh as well, could feel his heartbeat too; vibrations of it bleeding through her ribs like ice melting on the glass. She gripped his fingers tighter, willing the warmth of her hands into them. If she could just save him, save them both. 

“I was disappointed and hurt by what you did, but I never hated you,” he continued. “And I don't hate you now.”

“You act like an ass, though,” she said before she could stop herself. “Because I want it back, you know. Whatever it was, whatever we had.... and you are such hardass and so hard to please and now I may never get the chance to -”

Predictably, he stopped her from finishing that line. “Hey, shhhh. You're getting out of here. The team will pick up the signal off your bracelet and they'll be here. You'll see.”

 _You_ , she thought, was predictable as well. He would do everything to keep himself alive as long as possible in order to keep _her_ alive, because that's who Grant Ward was. The self sacrificing asshole whom she might never make laugh again and that hurt like hell. She did not want that. She closed her eyes again, focusing hard on what she was going to say. (Not how scared she was, or how frustrated she was. Not how much she didn't want to lose him.)

Instead she said, “Geez, Ward, have you picked that name deliberately?”

She could still catch him off guard. Verbally, at least. 

“My parents gave me my name,” he said. “What's wrong with my name?”

“You do know what it means?” she asked, fully prepared to hear that he didn't (because he was like that, not giving himself that kind of importance even though he could be so proud of himself). Or maybe that he did, but thought nothing of it, like it didn't explain him, from head to toe. 

“You do know?” he asked instead, tone shifting from guarded to something softer, something more personal. _There_ , there he was, that guy who called her rookie and kept _her_ on her toes because he wanted her to learn and become capable of protecting herself. Just in case he failed. She could settle against that guy.

“Duh,” she said on a shaky breath. “It sounded funny when I heard it so I checked. It's... it's what I do.”

“Glad you think I'm funny,” he retorted. 

“No, not you,” she poked his chest. “Your name, at first. _You_ are as serious as heart attack.”

“I'm not sure if that's better or worse,” he said amiably. There he was, back with her and she didn't want to lose him ever again. 

“I don't care,” she replied. “I don't want you to die, Ward. I don't want us to freeze here, and -” her voice broke for real this time. Was that it? Would this be how it all ends? She punched against his chest, weakly, palm flat against him. “Stop trying to protect me while giving up on yourself.”

*

She was cold, but considerably less cold than she had been. Also, she was lying down, in a bed, covered with blankets. Alone. 

There was no Ward next to her. 

Skye jerked awake. Her eyes were met with the dimmed lights of the lab, familiar objects all moved aside so that the room could afford two beds. One for her, the other for Ward, almost withing her reach. She let out the panic out of her lungs, curling on her side, so she could look at him. He was still and asleep, and she could barely see his chest moving. 

But he was there. Alive. Breathing.

She had to check, though, had to feel for herself, after holding onto his hand for hours on end; after being kept against his heartbeat, and talking to him until she could barely move her lips. 

Skye sat up and the room swayed but she didn't care. She had something to hold onto, and it was half a step away from her. The other bed shook when she grabbed its metal frame. Ward opened his eyes. Another breath later something was crumbling away inside her chest, and she didn't want to be cold any more. 

“Skye?” he asked as she climbed next to him.

“I'm cold,” she offered as a way of explaining. He lifted the blankets, not much but enough. There was warmth underneath and she was ready to drown in it. 

“Better?” he asked and shifted to make room, one arm across her side, palm against her ribcage and long legs tangling with hers. She shifted closer, closer; as close as she could get, face against his chest and her arm around him; not caring who might walk in and see them, or what anyone including him might think, because she was done. She was done with losing him and in extension everything else. 

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

“I'm here,” he said. She nodded - _I'm here_ instead of _you're welcome_ , instead of some other phrase meant to keep her at a distance, because that was who he was; despite everything and anything. She managed not to sob out loud, but he could probably feel tears through the shirt he had on. He stroked her back until she stopped shivering, then stroked her hair and held the back of her head and she didn't want him to stop. Everything was quiet and warm, and she never wanted it to end. 

“I had a name, you know. Before,” she willed her voice to remain calm. His fingers picked up the motion from moments before. “The name they gave me at St. Agnes. I didn't want it because -” she moved to look up at him, not surprised when she met understanding. 

“I know,” he said. 

“You've been someone your whole life. Belonged to someone. Even if it sucked, you still know where you came from. All I had was this... searching where I could settle. And then, when I was old enough to leave, I didn't want anything of that life and I didn't even want a place. Home doesn't have to be a place, right? I had a van and nobody could tell me I couldn't stay somewhere. And so -”

“You picked your own name,” he said. She nodded, staring at his face, familiar as the lines of her palm. 

“Clouds don't need to settle down,” she said. “I thought that was very smart.”

That earned her a smile. Not a chuckle or an uncomfortable, almost suspended grin, but a smile. Slow and lovely like warmth around her. 

“Only, clouds are insubstantial,” she added.

“That's nonsense,” he replied promptly, just as she hoped he would, and then pulled her close, like he knew she wanted just that. “And don't argue,” he said before she was able to draw a breath and continue the debate, trying to prove that she had nowhere to belong to and hoping someone would argue hard enough to make her believe otherwise. 

Except she didn't want to. Not any more. She had him and the team, and a plane. Not much different from a van, except there were clouds around them. 

“I won't,” she said. A cloud couldn't settle anywhere, except, perhaps among other clouds, and wasn't she right there? She drew a breath and put her head back against his chest. 

 

*

Name meanings: 

_Skye (Skie)_ \- From the name of the Isle of Skye off the west coast of Scotland; derived from Old Norse “Sky”, which means "cloud".

 _Grant_ \- From an English and Scottish surname which was derived from Norman French "grand" meaning "great". 

_Ward_ , as an English word has multiple meanings which (interestingly!) come down to protection when they don’t refer to administrative districts or sections of hospitals (there are warded locks, there are wards in Supernatural and in Harry Potter), also, my friend found a reference that says “one on the lookout for shady work”, which I find very amusing. Basically, if you play with meanings, Grant Ward translates into “great protector”. I don’t think he could have more perfect name.


End file.
